Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 127: System Integration 4 (Flashback)

Chapter 127: System Integration 4 (Flashback)

Even with his senses twisted, his body paralyzed, and his mind disoriented, Alex still felt the pain.

It wasn’t like burning or stabbing, not even the sharp, blinding agony of a wound. This pain was everywhere—a boundless, unrelenting force pounding at the foundation of his very existence. It felt as though countless hammers were striking his soul, over and over, in every direction, from no direction at all.

He tried to scream—he thought he did—but sound meant nothing anymore. The sensation of movement, of voice, of breath... all gone. His mind spun in a lightless void, tethered only to the ever-rising tide of agony.

"Make it stop."

"Please... make it stop."

Time lost meaning. A second could’ve been an hour, a minute could’ve been a lifetime. All he could do was think. Trapped in a mind consumed by pain, his thoughts became the last refuge—and even they quaked under the weight of his suffering.

Outside the capsule, Nyxara was barely holding herself together.

It had been over an hour since the screams began.

His cries weren’t human anymore. They were ragged, broken, tearing through the silence of the great hall with a rawness that made even the stone walls tremble. Every sound Alex made pierced her chest like a blade. She could feel his torment, not just hear it. It was as if his agony was reaching out through the capsule, bleeding into the air, into the very ground beneath her paws.

Her claws scraped deep grooves into the marble floor. Her fur bristled with rage and helplessness. Muscles tensed beneath her sleek frame, and her tail lashed behind her in short, erratic bursts.

"End it," she thought. "Please, just end it for him..."

But she did nothing.

Because she knew—interrupting the process now could kill him. And if she failed, she’d lose him anyway. So she stood there, trembling with fury and fear, her amber eyes never leaving the capsule.

The machine continued to shake, its reinforced structure absorbing every thrash and convulsion of the boy inside. Internal restraints kept Alex from tearing himself apart, but they could not mask the fact that something monumental was happening within him.

Then, after four hours, the screams suddenly stopped.

Silence crashed over the room like a wave.

Nyxara’s ears perked instantly, her body low and tense, eyes wide. For a single terrifying moment, she thought he was—

But no.

The vitals on the screen were stable.

Heartbeat strong. Oxygen saturation was normal. Brain activity... intense, but not fading. He was alive. But what had changed?

She didn’t need to wait long for the answer.

With a soft hum, the capsule began to rise, slowly lifting from the ground, shifting from a horizontal position into a vertical stance, suspended a few feet above the floor. A low hiss echoed as locks disengaged.

Then, with deliberate grace, the door opened.

Blue liquid poured out in streams, washing across the marble floor and splashing around Nyxara’s paws. It shimmered like molten crystal before thinning into clear runoff. And then—

A figure stepped forward.

Drenched, steaming slightly, and silent.

A boy.

----

Alex lay on the cold marble floor, steam steadily rising from his body—an eerie mist curling off his skin as if he were being evaporated from the inside out.

Moments ago, he had been submerged in freezing liquid. Now, heat radiated from him in waves, unnatural and silent. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Just sat there—legs folded beneath him, one hand pressed to the floor, head bowed as droplets of the blue fluid clung to his hair and skin, sliding down his back in slow trails.

He didn’t even blink.

Nyxara approached with cautious steps, her breath shallow, ears folded back. The deep scratches in the marble beneath her reminded her of the hours she’d spent enduring his screams—each cry an echo of torment that now seemed completely erased.

"Alex..." she called softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond.

She moved closer, her paws padding softly against the wet stone, heart heavy with dread. "Alex..." she said again, firmer this time, concern rising in her tone. "Say something."

Still nothing.

She came right up beside him now, towering over his still form, a tremor in her voice as she lowered her head to his level. "Alex. Please. Look at me."

A beat of silence.

Then another.

And then, he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his head.

His gaze met hers.

Nyxara froze.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

The gaze that reflected in her was a stranger’s; it lacked the warmth and familiarity of the boy she had once known. Gone were the bright, expressive eyes of Alex that had sparkled with laughter, filled with sorrow, and held secrets during their whispered conversations in the darkness.

Instead, she found a cold, unsettling intensity staring back, devoid of the humanity that had once made him real and relatable.

These eyes...

They were empty.

Completely void of emotion. No pain. No relief. No rage. No recognition.

Just stillness.

Lifeless. Cold. Flat.

Like the eyes of a corpse that forgot to close.

Nyxara took an unconscious step back, her claws scraping softly against the marble. For the first time since she met him, fear bloomed in her chest—not of him, but for him.

Something had been taken.

Something vital.

-----

A few minutes before the capsule opened...

Inside the pod, time had lost all meaning. Seconds bled into hours. Minutes stretched into eternities.

Alex didn’t know how long he’d been in pain.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Agony enveloped him like a dense fog, seeping into every fiber of his being. It clung to him like a second skin, an unshakable presence that rendered him hollow yet intensely aware. Every thought was painted in shades of pain, as if sharp, jagged shards were driving through each synapse, sending jolts of electric torment cascading through a mind that had become a battleground.

Waves of anguish crashed through him like a relentless storm, drowning out any remnants of peace or clarity. His consciousness was a tumultuous sea of suffering, where even the simplest memories refracted into blinding shards of despair. This agony had morphed into his very existence, a cruel companion that refused to let go.

He tried to scream.

But there was no voice.

Only thought.

And even that was shattering.

"Make it stop. Please, just make it stop..."

"PLEASE—I’m begging you—just make it STOP! This is too much—AAAGHHHH—"

He kept screaming inside his mind because it was the only place left. The only place untouched, uncrushed.

But even that was starting to give way.

Even if Alex could be said to have unparalleled talent, one must remember he was just seventeen, yes. But trained since childhood. A prince. A warrior in blood and spirit. But this—this-this wasn’t just pain. This was a violation. Rewriting. A quiet war was being fought in the folds of his brain, where tiny invaders, nano-sized machines, sought not to inhabit—but to become him.

They were trying to be accepted as cells—no longer foreign, no longer artificial, but one with his brain. With his visual cortex. With the very link that made him see the world.

And to do so, they had to convince their entire being to forget they were ever strangers.

It was something science deemed impossible, as they wanted to allow the brain to recognise them as cells.

But they were doing it.

And it felt like being peeled apart at the cellular level.

"Why... Why am I still holding on?"

"Why am I doing this?"

"I should’ve ended it back then... I should’ve just... gone with them. I should’ve died..."

His thoughts became softer.

Weaker.

Flickering.

"It’s not worth it."

"Nothing is worth this."

"What am I even fighting for anymore..."

His will was one breath away from collapsing entirely.

And then—

A voice.

Everywhere and nowhere. Loud and whispering. Familiar and terrifying.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Don’t you want to see their blood?"

"Don’t you want to hear them beg?"

"Don’t you want to look in their eyes when they realize what’s coming?"

Alex’s shaking thoughts froze.

The agony didn’t stop—but it paused in its meaning.

The voice was a dark flame, stoking the very ember of rage that had lived inside him since that night.

And it was enough.

"Yes..."

"That’s right..."

"That’s what I’m meant to do."

"The world will burn. They will drown in their blood. I can’t stop now."

His will snapped back into place, jagged and bloodstained.

He held on.

"That’s the spirit! With determination in its cold, like voice, the voice encouraged, ’Don’t you dare give up,’ as it slowly faded into the distance."

Gritting his metaphorical teeth, he let the pain wash over him—not as a punishment, but as proof. Proof that he was still here. That he was earning this power. That the future was being carved into his mind, cell by agonizing cell.

He endured.

And after an eternity, it was done.

The last nano-bit fused.

The link was complete.

His body, broken.

His mind, rewritten.

But his purpose...

Sharp as ever.

He just didn’t know yet what the cost would be.

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